Sweet Escape
by amethystwrites
Summary: •AU• When a 32 year old Norma Bates embarks on a trip to NY and meets the stoic yet intriguing Alex Romero, she finds herself building up a self-profile that is far from the real thing. How long will she be able to continue this charade of the single teacher that is Norma Bates before Alex sees through the act, and will he have the same feelings for the damaged woman underneath?
1. Chapter 1

Plane journeys had never been an easy ride for me; pun intended. I think, if i'd have experienced a plane journey as a child—broke the ice, I guess—it wouldn't be as difficult as it was now. Growing up with parents who were far too busy yelling at each other, or drinking, or doing god knows what to even remember to _pick me up from school_ in the afternoon meant that a happy jolly family holiday was far from reach. My first plane journey was only a couple years back, as an adult; a far more wary, paranoid, pessimistic adult with a lot more knowledge on the known catastrophes that've taken place on plane journeys. I can remember it almost like it was yesterday. I remember nearing a panic attack as I sat on the plane; overwhelmed simply by the premise of being raised in the air by lord knows how many feet. That, and the fact that the plane was tight and cramped, and how the isle you had to somehow shimmy your way through to find your allocated seat was so narrow that you were almost touching shoulders with the stranger in the next row to you. It was a claustrophobic pessimist's worst nightmare, and so, in rough translation; it was my worst nightmare. Sam had only invested in the holiday because i'd told him the kids deserved a treat; something to make up for the awfully toxic environment they were living in with the two of us at each other's throats all the time.

Disneyland Paris, it was. He'd trailed behind hard-faced and miserable as I walked ahead in front of him; both boys clinging on to each of my hands. And as we walked, we passed other families; fathers who hoisted their little kids up onto their shoulders so they could get a good look at Mickey and Minnie Mouse. Sam truly couldn't be any more out of place. He didn't seem to experience the joy I felt when Dylan ran up to hug Woody from Toy Story like it's all he'd ever wanted to do, or mirror my horror when little Norman got far too excited and tripped and scraped his knee. Sam wasn't the kind of guy you would imagine yourself raising children with. He wasn't the kind of guy who you'd sit and watch playing with your children and feel a rush of contentment wash over you in that moment because you realise that your family is truly perfect. He wasn't the kind of guy romantic enough to set the two of you up the occasional 'date nights' as a small break from the often hassling day-job that was being a parent. Sam was the guy who would only agree to take your kids to the magical kingdom of Disneyland because he _should_ ; because that's what all the other fathers did, because he wanted to be seen as the good guy. What he wanted was to build up such a clean, innocent image of the two of us that i'd have neighbours or family friends or even mere strangers come up to me in the grocery store and say 'You are so lucky to have a guy like Sam as a husband' or 'You have a beautiful family'. In those moments I could never manage to feel any anger or amusement over the fact that those statements were far from true, because somehow, somewhere deep down; _I was proud_. Real or not, we gave off the image i'd always wanted when I pictured having a family of my own, and that was enough.

It was when I began to realise that it _shouldn't_ be enough that things became complicated. After each piercing yell, each sexist comment and constant demand and slap he threw at me; the message had slowly began to sink in that this just wasn't what life was supposed to be like. I wasn't supposed to just sit and make do because hey, at least other people thought we were a nice family. I was supposed to be a good mother to my children. To protect them, keep them out of harms way. I was supposed to be in the right mind-set to realise that this was not a safe environment for them, nor me, and to be strong and wise enough to make a move and do something about it. But I just wasn't. Not yet.

If you watch, well—almost every trashy romantic comedy movie ever—where does the female protagonist jet off to figure herself out? Well the city that never sleeps, of course. New York City. I hadn't been before; always wanted to, never got the opportunity to. With Norman and Dylan going to summer camp (which was still eating away at my brain, but they were teenagers now and I had to let them grow up _someday_ ) and Sam going away for work, I had the chance to do something for myself for once. At first, it felt almost wrong. Like how a goody-two-shoes nerd at school would feel if they were planning to skip a class for the first time. I felt like a rule breaker; like I was going against my true purpose in life and going in a completely different direction. If anything, the rush that came with that feeling is the main part of what had me stepping on that plane without a second thought about what might happen if I did.

A slight bit of moment jilted me out of my peaceful slumber on the plane journey; one which ended far earlier than i'd have liked, really. Being blinded by the bright light from the plane window as soon as my eyes opened, it seemed pointless to make any attempt to get back to sleep. I couldn't be sure if a faulty sleeping pill was to blame, or whether the true culprit was my tendency to be a ridiculously light sleeper. Probably the latter. That was one of the main things motherhood changed about me; how well I slept. As a little girl I could sleep through anything. Sometimes i'd wake up and i'd open my curtains to complete destruction left behind by a storm; one that, unlike what seemed to be the entire town, i'd been completely oblivious to. But now, as a mother? Even the tiniest of murmurs could wake me, because usually instincts would tell me that a sound such as this was a cry; a plea for my help and comfort after a nightmare, or god forbid something worse and more real. Nine times out of ten it was a false alarm; and i'd check the boys rooms to the sight of both of them sound asleep, wrapped up in their covers with a teddy bear under their arms. Even so, it made me more alert, and while I would usually complain about waking up so easily; it was a trait that'd actually benefitted me a good number of times.

And funnily enough, this was one of those times.

The first thing my eyes properly focused on was an arm reaching right across me. I immediately tensed back in my seat, turning to glare at the man sitting next to me. "What the hell do you think you're doing?!"

He paused for a second; turning to look at me. "Are you serious?" He reached his hand out slightly further, simply pushing the window closed and pulling his hand back in surrender to demonstrate his innocence.

"Oh!" I exclaimed, running a hand through my curls in embarrassment. "Oh." I repeated once again, followed by a laugh of shame. "Sorry, I thought—"

"Don't worry about it." He nodded once, sitting back in his seat and placing his hands on his lap. Despite his words, he didn't seem at all satisfied by my apology. Seemed to me he'd already made a judgement based on what'd just happened; in that he decided I wasn't someone he wanted to converse with.

I raised an eyebrow at his attitude, slumping back into my seat and pulling my eye mask down. It must've only been a couple of minutes that I stayed in this position, as I was unable to shake the burning feeling that his eyes were glued on me. I pulled the mask back up, turning to look at the man who—as I suspected—was looking my way. "I'm sorry but do you have a problem, mister?"

"Me? No." He shrugged. "Why, do you?"

"Yeah, you know what, I do actually. I payed good money for this seat, and I get a guy like you sitting right next to me. It's just my goddamn luck."

"Maybe you should ask for a refund."

"Maybe I should."

"Maybe you should."

"Maybe I will." I smiled sarcastically, and he shook his head and buried his head back into his newspaper.

I huffed, swivelling my body to the side so I was facing away from the stranger.

Silence filled the air for a short moment, and I watched the man through the corner of my eye; just sat there, scanning through a newspaper. Perfectly innocent; yet somehow managing to infuriate me substantially. I twisted the hem of my skirt with my fingers in train of thought, eventually coming to the conclusion that this conversation was not over.

"You know, it doesn't kill to be a little friendly now and again."

He jumped, closing his newspaper shut and turning towards me with a sigh and an absence of any form of expression on his face.

"It also doesn't kill to let a guy sit in silence. I paid for a flight, pretty sure I didn't sign up to be a source of entertainment."

"Jeez, y'know—i'm not asking you to get up and perform a magic act. I'm just saying, it's common courtesy to at least say hello and introduce yourself in a situation like this."

"Alright, hello." He stated simply. "Happy?"

"Overjoyed." I smiled sarcastically and pulled my eye mask right over my head, dropping it to the side and fixing my messy hair. "And the introduction...?" I trailed off, making a gesture with my hand.

"Alex." He muttered quietly, holding his hand out towards me.

"Well, I guess it's nice to meet you Alex." I shook his hand, at least grateful for that welcoming gesture. "I'm Norma."

Our greeting was briefly disrupted by the food and drinks trolley stopping next to us, the air hostess questioning us both on whether we wanted anything.

"Oooh! I'll take some of those chips—" I reached over Alex, pointing to the specific packet on the trolley. "And a still water."

She took out the items I requested and I glanced at the list of prices on the plastic-framed piece of paper propped on top of the trolley. I rummaged through my purse for some change and handed the money over. "Thank you very much." I smiled as she passed on the chips and water in return.

"I'll take a sparking water, please."

"Ugh." My face screwed up in disgust at his choice of drink.

"What now?" He looked back at me after handing his money over to the air hostess, receiving his drink in return.

"How can you like sparkling water?"

His eyebrows knitted together, appearing to be confused at my question. "What do you mean?"

"I mean–how does it appeal to you? I honestly don't get the appeal. It just tastes like fizzy air."

"In that case, isn't normal water just...air?" He stated smugly, pointing over to my own bottle of still water.

"Oh ha ha, okay." I rolled my eyes, taking a quick sip of the water. "So you're one of those smart-ass guys, huh?

"Yeah, i'm one of those smart-ass guys. Hadn't you noticed?" He questioned with a raise of his eyebrow, taking a sip of his own water.

"Oh, i've spent my entire life dealing with those guys. I noticed alright. I avoid guys like that like the plague, that's why i'm single. I mean they are everywhere, it's ridiculous. These days you can rarely have a full conversation with a guy without him—"

"You're single?"

"Hm?"

"You said you were single."

I paused, unaware that the lie had come out so naturally. Of course, I wasn't single, and I certainly didn't avoid smart-ass guys. In fact I couldn't, really, I had to live with one; I was _married_ to one. Over the years i'd somehow managed to get used to how horrible he was, but at this point it was getting too much. All of it was getting to me, and I needed a break from it all; an escape. That's the whole reason why I was sat on this plane in the first place. But he didn't need to know that. This stranger didn't have to know that I was a complete and utter train-wreck.

"Oh! Sorry, yes. Yeah I am."

"Oh." He nodded. "Wouldn't have thought so." While he didn't seem to execute it as one, I took the reaction as a compliment anyway.

"And you?"

"Don't really don't have time for that stuff."

"Workaholic?" I speculated, tilting my head.

"I guess you could say that."

"I knew it." I exclaimed, snapping my fingers. "What's your job?" I crossed my legs and brought the bottled water back up to my lips again, looking towards him. I found it surprising how into the conversation i'd found myself at this stage.

"I'm the Sheriff of my hometown." I abruptly pulled the water bottle back down to my lap, bringing my hand up to my mouth and swallowing back the water i'd almost spat it out in surprise. " _Wow_." He nodded. "Yeah." A small laugh escaped his lips then; the first i'd heard from him so far. He had a nice smile, actually, when it was a genuine one and not out of smugness. I'd give him that. "And you?"

"A sheriff. Damn." Well, it explained his lack of emotion. Being a Sheriff required being pretty serious; clearly he'd gotten so used to it that it'd stuck even while being off duty. "A sheriff scurrying off to the Big Apple? Surely that time off work can't be easy to come by, right?" I'd hoped that he would forget that i'd completely ignored his question; after all I could hardly reveal that I was nothing more than an unemployed housewife, reliant on her husband for financial support. Especially since I didn't even _have_ a husband now, according to whatever on earth had taken over my mind and possessed me to lie unjustifiably to this stranger.

"Not exactly, no, but then I wouldn't exactly label this 'scurrying' off. I mean—i'm not really here by choice."

"Are you telling me you've been made to come on this vacation?"

"Basically." He responded with a shrug; like as if he was a kid being sent to summer school by his strict parents. My question had been put sarcastically, but he responded all too seriously; almost as if he really was expecting my sympathy over being made to come to a city like New York. "It gets to a point where taking time off the job is mandatory. I hate it, really. Not knowing what's going on back home. When you're a Sheriff it's not a good feeling to lose control of it all."

"Oh, god. How _awful_ ," I feigned sympathy, placing my hand to my chest. "Having to kick back and relax in one of the greatest cities in America? God it sounds like complete torture, I hope you'll be okay?"

He nodded slowly, understanding the sarcasm. "You think i'm boring."

He wasn't wrong; someone who had to be forced to take time off work is definitely the kind of person i'd label as a bore. "Well, you'd understand if your work was the most important thing to you. I'm assuming it isn't. What do you do?"

Another pause. I'd hoped he'd get so carried away with his own job description that mine would be a subject topic that'd be brushed aside, but now I was stuck.

"I'm a teacher." I answered, as quickly as was possible.

"What subject?"

Really? It wasn't a couple of minutes ago that the guy was showing no interest in interacting with me at all. Of course he just had to choose now to know more about me; once i'd already caught myself in this web of lies. Typical. It was almost like he knew that I needed to be tested, like he was setting out to watch me slip up.

"Wait let me guess—English? Or art?"

"English." Well, I was relatively good at English in school. At least it was a logical lie, if there ever was one.

"Mm. Thought so. You look like an English teacher." He took a quick glance my way and nodded; like as if he was satisfied with his observation.

I frowned, snorting quietly. "Do I? How can you _look_ like an English teacher?"

"God, I don't know. Female English teachers are usually the kind and talkative ones, the ones all the students like...aren't they? I don't know. I guess I get that from you." He shrugged.

"Woah, was that a compliment?"

"You can take it as one."

"It _was_ a compliment." I grinned smugly and nodded, opening my packet of chips and popping one into my mouth.

"As I said. You can take it as one."

"Mhhhhm." I narrowed my eyes suspiciously, and I could've sworn I saw him crack another genuine smile. It was a compliment. An intentional one, at that.

"So why New York?"

"Huh? Oh, gosh, no idea. I've always wanted to go, I guess."

"You've never been before?"

"Nah." I shook my head. "Why have you?"

"A couple times." He nodded.

"Ah," I sat back. "So this is your 'mandatory vacation' destination every year."

"How'd you know?"

"Eh. You seem like the kinda guy who'd stick to one place.

He sighed in frustration, turning to look at me with an unimpressed expression plastered on his face.

The seriousness on his face broke the neutral expression on my own, causing me to burst out into laughter. "Okay, alright, that was an insult...yes. I'm sorry." I placed my hand on his shoulder apologetically. "Look i'm not saying you're boring—"

"You haven't said the words—"

"—It's just, I don't know...do you not get bored? Coming to the same place _all_ the time?"

"Nope."

"But...have you not just seen everything there is to see?"

"I'm not really the sightseeing type."

"So you're telling me you visit a city like New York, and you stay cooped up in your hotel room the entire time like a hermit? You might as well go to some crappy motel slap bang in the middle of nowhere if you're gonna do that."

"I never said I stay cooped up in my hotel room, I said I don't go sightseeing."

"Potatoes, pot _ah_ toes." I waved my hand in front of my face.

"There are still things to do outside of Manhattan, you know. New York isn't just Times Square and the Empire State Building and the Statue of Liberty. There's so much more to it than that, and that's what I go for. The quieter parts."

"Mhm..."

He rolled his eyes, blatantly noticing the growing grin spreading across my face at his words. "Just say it, I know it's eating you up."

"You're boring." I finally said, smiling in satisfaction.

"I'm glad you finally got your moment there."

"Aw, thanks. It felt good, really."

He shook his head and smiled again; that same genuine smile from earlier that seemed to accentuate just how attractive he truly was.

I wanted someone to slap me; _needed_ someone to slap me, really. No part of this was a good idea; the lying, the fact that I was thinking about this man in the way I currently was, or even the fact that I was talking to him in the first place. But I had to remind myself; i'd probably never see him again. New York was a big city. I wasn't going to ask for his number, or give him mine, and he didn't exactly seem to be the kind of guy to ask for it either. Two strangers on a plane; making do with the company they've got, perhaps along with a touch of flirtation and sarcasm. That's all it was. Harmless. Completely harmless. The lying part of it was something different; something a lot less harmless. Dangerous, even.

Lying was unhealthy, yes, but everything in my life was. I'd come to New York to escape that. To forget about everything for a short amount of time. That wasn't going to be successful if I spent the whole vacation talking or even thinking about Sam, or the kids, or my past, or anything that made my life worth being rewritten.

 **Okay, you have no idea how long i've been toying with this idea for. I've wrote and deleted and wrote and deleted, changed plot-lines, decided not to bother at all, then gone back to it etc etc. I feel like right now, if anything, is the right time to publish. With what has happened in the show, I am honestly digging the Normero AU's right now. I know a lot of other people are too, so I do hope this one appeals to people. If it does, do let me know, or if it doesn't I guess - there's nothing wrong with constructive criticism! Anyway, the first two are pretty much just starter chapters since as i'm sure you can imagine the story only properly begins when they actually get to New York, but I hope this one was still enjoyable anyway and enough for you to want to read more.**


	2. Chapter 2

*** Updated due to a few tiny mistakes that were irritating me when I read this one back.**

* * *

When Norma woke up—after not actually realizing she'd fallen asleep in the first place—it was to unfamiliar warmth. Her blue eyes flickered open to a navy blue blanket sprawled across her, and her first instinct was to turn to the dark-eyed stoic sitting comfortably beside her. She quirked an eyebrow, gesturing down to the blanket questionably.

"You fell asleep, that air hostess from earlier put it over you."

She couldn't help but notice that the statement was almost put across self-defensively, as if to say, _it wasn't me_. To try and save himself from feeling like a walking movie cliché; that 'hard-faced guy covers equally sassy yet kind-hearted female up in blanket as she falls asleep, thus telling the audience that yes, he does in fact care for this girl, despite their exchange of insults throughout the previous half of the narrative' kind of cliché.

"But you must have asked..."

He sighed. "You shivered in your sleep and I hadn't exactly planned to be responsible for a death on this vacation, so yes, I asked for a blanket. Is it such a big deal?"

"I don't know about big deal, but I do think it's pretty damn funny." She said, a smirk tugging at the corner of her lips. "I mean, come on—a guy like you—cliché? God, you must be kicking yourself."

"I would, but you already did the honours in that department."

She grimaced in embarrassment. "I kicked you?"

"Numerous times. Quite aggressively I might add."

"Oh...well. Sorry?" She breathed out a guilty chuckle, straightening up in her seat. "Uh—how long was I asleep?" She asked, still slightly dazed.

"About a half hour, maybe?"

"I don't even remember falling asleep." She stated with a frown, welcoming the warmth and comfort of the blanket by pulling it tighter over her body.

"Well let's see, I think I was half way through talking about my local town—which by the way _you_ asked me about—when I realized i'd been talking to myself for the majority of it, so..."

"Ohhh," She chewed on her bottom lip guiltily, unable to keep back the snort that escaped her nose. "I'm sorry."

"It's alright. I bore you, you've told me that already."

"No!" She began in his defense, putting her hand on his thigh apologetically; initially not thinking about the intimacy of such a gesture. "Aw, no, i'm sure it was very interesting."

He paused for a moment; and with his quick glance down to the placement of her hand, she assumed it was in shock over the sudden contact. She cleared her throat and pulled her hand back, Alex shifting slightly in his seat once her hand slipped away.

"Not really. I was just saying how it's a small town, and—"

"Oh! Yes, yes. No I was awake then. Phite Wine—wait, no—White Pine Bay. Right?"

He laughed quietly at her hesitant stutter, nodding. "Yeah, that's it."

"See! I do listen. I remember, because I asked why you flew from Phoenix."

"I told you, I was staying—"

"With a _friend_. Mhm." She nodded slowly, the corners of her lips quirking into a suspicious smile. Of course she wasn't accusing him of anything; after all it was hardly her business whether or not he had a girlfriend, or a friend with benefits, or whoever this 'friend' was. He'd originally said he was single, though. It'd be hypocritical of her to scrutinize him for lying since she'd done just that, but she was merely curious.

As was completely in character for the stranger she'd barely gotten to know, Alex went quiet after this. Neither confirmed or denied the accusation behind Norma's suggestive tone, left it as another question to linger along with all the other uncertainties she had about him.

They got back into that silence again. Alex once again picking up his newspaper; completely content sitting in silence and keeping himself to himself, unlike Norma who couldn't bear it. Unless she was sick, in a bad mood, or simply wanting to be alone with her thoughts—in which case she welcomed it—she could never manage to function properly in complete silence. She often found herself having to make some form of noise to lessen her discomfort; a shift in her seat, a hum, sometimes even a forced cough. In this particular situation, things were different. She knew that if she started making a noise, Alex would become irritated, and he would simply ignore her.

"Oh oh oh!" She exclaimed abruptly, spotting what was on the page Alex had just turned over and reaching over to ensure he didn't turn past it.

"Jesus..." Alex muttered, closing his eyes briefly. This woman seemed to have a habit of scaring him out of his wits when he least expected it.

"Sorry, but I couldn't let you go past that. I am the _best_ at crosswords." She stated, tapping the page firmly. "Honestly. Test me. I bet you I know them all." She said confidently, straightening herself up in her seat and smiling contently.

"Alright, lets see. Here we go; 1 down. 8 letter word for luck."

He observed her as she thought it through; mumbling to herself, racking her brain for possible synonyms. The concentration plastered on her face was amusing, but there was also something almost fascinating about it. Alex always found it enjoyable, watching someone talking or thinking about something they were passionate about. Even something as silly as a crossword.

"Ah! Fortuity. That's 8 letters, is it not?"

"Are you sure? You're committing to that?"

"Yep. Get it down."

He pulled out a pencil, and she looked at him in what could only be described as horror.

"Oh, god. Please don't tell me you're one of _those_ people."

"Those people?"

"Yeah. Those sissy's who use a pencil instead of a pen. Give me that—" She said in playful frustration, snatching the newspaper from him and pulling her handbag onto her lap. Scrambling through an abundance of random items that she had in her kitchen-sink-of-a-bag, she eventually found a pen. She held the lid in between her teeth as she purposefully scrawled 'Fortuity' into the 8-boxed space. "If you're sure about something, you commit to it."

"Uh, Norma?"

"Yes, i'm about to link this to my theory that you have commitment issues. And? I think it's accurate. You're showing all the signs." She stated seriously and nodded.

"Oh don't get me wrong, I was _ecstatic_ to hear your commitment issues speech—it's just that—" He reached over, lowering his voice and tapping his finger on the page. "You wrote in the wrong box."

"What? No I didn't. See, it's—" She paused, inspecting the page properly and realising that he was in fact right. Clearing her throat uncomfortably, she sat upright in her seat and passed him back the newspaper. "It's because you were distracting me." She insisted stubbornly, setting her hands on her lap and shutting her eyes.

"Oh, obviously. Mm." He nodded, his tone the most sarcastic she'd heard from him yet; so annoyingly smug.

She opened one eye, then both, turning to glare at him disapprovingly. Breathing out an elongated sigh, she turned back away from him with a shake of her head.

"You're an ass."

* * *

An unexpected wave of sadness hit Norma like a ton of bricks when the announcement sounded that the plane was coming into landing. She wanted to shake herself back into order; scream at this person she'd become over the past few hours, tell her that god dammit—she'd only known this man for a couple of hours no less. He wasn't worth getting so upset over.

But she _was_ upset. Upset because she hated the idea of letting go of what'd been a well-needed glimpse of normality. Normal people conversations; civilised, simple conversations of nothingness. Not arguments about curtain colours or how there weren't enough beers stocked in the fridge. There was no toxicity there at all. Just two completely normal people, with normal lives and normal personalities. She hadn't had that in a long time, and now she was going to have to let it slip away.

To Norma, the phrase 'You can have too much of a good thing' is complete bullshit. Always has been, always will be. From the point of view of someone who has been to hell and back; you can never have too much of a good thing. If it was at all possible, she probably would sit on that plane for hours to follow; talking to Alex about silly, low-importance things. But eventually, it would have to come to an end.

Without truly realising they were doing it, the two of them stayed around each other for as long as possible after getting off the plane. Not talking to each other or looking at each other, but secretly aware of one another's movements; subtly following so they didn't lose each other in the crowd. To baggage reclaim, through customs, until they realised they couldn't trail each other any longer without coming to a stop.

The stop where they were going to have to go their separate ways.

"Well...here we are."

"Here we are."

"Uh..." He chuckled awkwardly, the sound fading away as his attention was drawn to the sudden movement in front of him.

Norma had outstretched her hand, looking at him with a kind smile. "It was was nice meeting you, Alex."

After a small pause, he took her hand in his and shook it appreciatively. "Yeah, you too."

"So it wasn't so bad being a source of entertainment after all, huh?"

"Hah—" He smiled, shaking his head in amusement. "No. No, I guess not."

"You should take that with you, you know. In New York." She insisted, pulling her hand away from the prolonged contact.

"Take what with me?"

"Uh, the concept of actually talking to people maybe? _Women_? It might do you some good." She suggested encouragingly.

"Yeah, I told you. Not looking for anything."

"Sometimes the best things come when you don't go searching for them."

"Jesus," He shook his head and looked away; clearly either amused or disgusted by her attempt at being poetic. She couldn't quite tell which it was. With him, that line was sort of blurred. "And how does that theory work out if you just completely bypass those things all together, huh?"

"Well, _then_ you end up living by yourself with 12 cats."

"I'm more of a dog person, but—"

"My god..."

"What?"

"Nothing. I'm just—i'm despairing for you—I really am."

"Why's that?"

"Well, you know. A guy like you; if you ever want a relationship, you're gonna need to find someone pretty damn obstinate."

"So you're essentially saying that the only kind of person I could be in a relationship with is someone who doesn't leave me alone?"

"Exactly."

"What a bright future I have..."

"Hey, it's not a bad thing. You literally need that. Because, heck, someone who is quiet and timid will give up on you like _that_." She said, clicking her fingers. "Because they'll just assume you're an asshole. Which—"

"Which I am?" He wrongly predicted, to which she tutted.

" _Which is why_ ," She continued innocently, assuring him that he was overestimating her tendency to throw insults at him. "You need someone more tolerant, and stubborn. That way they won't stop until get past this whole—" She paused, gesturing around his face with her hand. "—Mr Stoic 'I don't care about anything' exterior you got going on."

"It's a nice theory, i'll give you that. Can't say i'll ever see it in practice though."

"Well, I wouldn't rule it out." She shrugged. "But hey! You're going to actually have to get to New York first—"

"Oh, yeah, probably should get to that..." He trailed off, jokingly checking his watch.

"Well, I hope you have a _wonderful_ time. You know, being boring, festering in your hotel room..."

"Oh I will." He muttered sarcastically, a small quirk in the corner of his lips.

She breathed out a laugh, shaking her head. "No, seriously though, enjoy yourself. Kick back, you know, live a little. You might actually surprise yourself."

"I'll keep that in mind."

"Well you won't, but—"

"No, I probably won't."

"Anyway." She laughed, waving a hand in front of her face.

Some strange, unfamiliar part of him wanted to hug her. _Lord_ knows why. He'd barely known this woman a couple of hours; surely of all people, it wouldn't be her that would be the one to break his discomfort with intimacy. In this moment, it seemed that she was, but maybe it really was just that. _The moment_. Either way, he didn't do anything about it. For someone more chipper and confident, perhaps it'd have been in character. If he'd have been a woman, perhaps it'd have been more in character. But he was a man who simply didn't _do_ intimacy; and so if he hugged her, she was sure to know that he wasn't just seeing her as some random he happened to talk to on a plane.

He raised an eyebrow, watching as she grabbed the handle of her suitcase and turned her back on him after nothing more than a smile for goodbye. "Goodbye, then?"

She turned around, tilting her head apologetically and simply giving him a wave. "Bye."

She'd always hated that word; goodbye. She had refused to say it to Dylan and Norman when they left. Granted, that was mainly because that wasn't a final goodbye. In a number of weeks she'd only be saying hello again. Yet, she'd managed to say it when Sam left. She'd be seeing him again, too. Difference was; she didn't actually _want_ to.

But this? For some silly, inexplicable reason, she didn't want whatever this had been to end. It baffled her how she felt more comfortable with this complete stranger; this man she'd known for mere _hours_ , than the man she'd been married to for years. That wasn't possible. Feelings like that weren't real. They were only seen in the movies; where people fall in love in a day.

Of course, it wasn't love; but it was _something_ , and truthfully it'd been a long time since she'd felt anything at all.

Yet now, through a cab window, she watched it all slip away from reach. Getting further and further...until nothing. He was just gone.

 **Firstly: I'm sorry that it's been a while, I planned to try and update at least once a week but it was my birthday recently so i've been busy with celebration/early celebration for that. Not to mention I had been struggling a little bit with writing in general, hence the change in style which is the second thing I wanted to mention. For years i'd been so used to writing in third person, and ever since I switched honestly I don't think i'd ever got used to it properly. It just never seems to look right to me when I write in first person, and while it may just be a mental thing, it still slows down my writing process and i'd much rather it come more naturally to me. That benefits me, and also you readers since it will potentially help updates come quicker. I really hope the change isn't annoying for anyone, and hope you enjoyed this chapter. Things will get more interesting from this point on, promise!**


	3. Chapter 3

The Crown hotel was a reasonable distance away from the madness of Manhattan, far enough for it to be described as a quiet area, though not too far away that Norma had to rule out the option of sightseeing because of travel cost. The hotel itself wasn't majorly flashy, though wouldn't ever be described as basic or tacky either. As soon as Norma walked inside, this strange feeling washed over her. The warm lighting, the beautiful paintings that hung on the wall, the brown leather seats; it all came together to create a feeling of comfort and relaxation. This would do quite nicely, she thought. She walked in through the lobby contently and headed up to the reception desk, greeted immediately with an overly enthusiastic smile by a red head in black-framed glasses; her name tag reading Rebecca.

"Hello, welcome to the Crown. How can I help you today?"

"Hi, yes, I have a reservation booked?"

"What's the name, please?"

"Bates."

"And can you spell that for me?" She asked seriously, preparing to type the name into the computer in front of her.

Norma blinked in surprise. "B-a-t-e-s." Her voiced raised unintentionally; making a point that she was stating the obvious. She hadn't had that one before. Since when was Bates such a difficult name to spell?

"Ah yes, there you are. And it's 2 weeks, is that correct?

"Yep, that's it."

"Can I see a credit card and photo ID, please?"

She rooted through her purse, pulling out her credit card and driver's licence.

"Thank you..." The woman trailed off, looking between the picture on the driver's licence and Norma _far_ too many times for her liking. She wanted to say, _yes, I look young and stress-free in that picture; and now i'm a lot older and haggard, I get your point_. Though of course, she didn't. Merely stood there patiently; with the addition of a sarcastic smile plastered on her face when the woman finally handed her possessions back to her.

"Okay, we have you on Floor 2; Room 234." She said, keeping hold of the key in her hand. "Breakfast is served in the big room just down the hall there, between 8 and 10pm. The bar is open 24 hours, and you can connect to our free wifi with the details in your welcome pack where you can find everything else you need to know. If you have any issues with your room, don't hesitate to call reception desk and someone will be with you as soon as possible."

"Okay, mhm—yep—gotcha..." Norma nodded along quickly, very quickly growing sick of the welcome babble and wanting to be handed her key already.

"Well I hope you have a lovely stay with us, ma'am." The woman smiled that same, over-enthusiastic—probably fake—smile once again and placed the key in her hand.

"Oh i'm sure I will, thank you very much." She responded politely, giving her a small wave before she gripped her suitcase and turned around. Barely even getting the chance to take any more than two steps ahead, Norma walked right into someone who was walking up to reception desk as she was leaving; none of them happening to be looking where they were going.

"Oops, oh i'm sorr—" Her eyes flickered up to meet the dark-brown ones of the stranger in apology, and the familiarity of them hit her immediately. "You?!" She took a few steps back in surprise. "Okay, what the—did you stalk me here? You know what...I _knew_ you gave off a bad vibe. I knew it! Listen you're not gonna get anywhere with me, mister. Do you hear me? I told you, i'm not interested in smart ass guys like you. So back off. All I wanted to come here, kick back, relax—"

"Mr. Romero." The woman from behind her intervened, bringing her overly dramatic speech to a close.

Alex looked over her shoulder to the woman at the front desk, nodding respectively towards her. "Hi, Becky."

Norma looked between them; in completely confusion over the apparent familiarity.

 _Becky_?

"It's good to see you again...Sir." She seemed to add the last half of the sentence on very quickly, as if she felt like she needed to save herself.

"You know this man?" Norma turned back to the woman, pointing back to Alex with her thumb.

"Uh, yes—Alex—Mr. Romero—has stayed with us a few times now, ma'am."

She narrowed her eyes curiously, turning back to him. "So _you're_ staying _here_. Out of all the hotels in New York, you and I end up in the same one?"

"Coincides happen, Ms. Bates." He shrugged.

"You know if you don't want to _seem_ like a stalker, you probably shouldn't act like one."

"How do you figure i'm acting like one?"

"Coincides happen, Mrs Bates." She repeated, dramatising his tone and making the sentence seem far more eerie than it did when he'd said it himself. "You _radiate_ stalker right now. How do you even know my surname?"

"Oh, I don't know, s'pose I overheard when you passive aggressively shouted B-A-T-E-S and it bounced off of every wall in the lobby?"

An audible snort escaped the nose of the red head behind the desk, but by the time Norma's head snapped round to shoot her a judgemental glare; she seemed to have regained her professional nature in record time.

She let out a little huff and turned back to Alex, her eyes narrowing at him once more. The stubbornness in her still left her uncertain on whether or not she should trust him. After all, one little conversation on a plane really wasn't much to go off.

"I still don't trust you."

"That's a shame."

"Yeah, it is." She stood with her arms crossed, wondering whether or not he was actually going to attempt to prove his innocence at all.

"Look, if you don't trust me, you don't trust me. There's not much I can do about it."

"Well, fine, then just keep your distance. You get on with your vacation, and i'll get on with mine."

"Sounds perfect to me. Now please, can I just check in?" He asked with a raised eyebrow, gesturing towards the front desk in annoyance.

"Be my guest." She said dramatically, stepping out of the way.

Norma found herself observing the conversation between Alex and the red head; how their mannerisms and facial expressions around each other seemed almost awkward and uncomfortable, similar to that of two people who hadn't seen each other in a long time. Two people who, just maybe, the last time they saw each other...

"Is there something else you need, ma'am?"

Norma stumbled back slightly, saving herself by the handle of her suitcase. "'Oh! No, no, i'm all set. I'll just be–" She pointed behind her, slowly turning around to avoid the discomfort she felt as the two of them looked at her.

Subtlety had never really been her strong point, so it didn't seem to click to her that standing right next to two people as you eavesdrop isn't the best way to go about it.

She shook her head in embarrassment, dragging her suitcase along behind her as she made her way over to the elevators.

* * *

Her room itself was pretty simplistic; basic, muted colours and of a regular size. She was never expecting anything majorly fancy, not for how much she paid anyway. Despite saving up for a while, she still didn't have enough to branch out on luxuries. Though there was no denying that the second she opened the curtains, it brought the entire room character. The striking view outside was just beautiful.

She immediately tackled the necessary hotel bed-test, flopping down on the mattress and taking a second to appreciate the comfort. It was heaven in comparison to the old, creaky mattress she had to endure every night at home; because apparently furniture was of low importance according to Sam.

As soon as she'd taken it all in; the view, the bed, the TV, the breakfast menu, more importantly the _drinks_ menu—the novelty of 'settling in' wore off pretty quickly. Already, she wanted to do something. Ever since she was little, Norma has always been the active type. Always wanting to do something or go somewhere, and with age that only heightened. She always felt like she had to busy herself by doing something, that you should never just sit down and waste your life away.

After unpacking everything and hanging all her clothes up, she decided a little exploring was due. Get used to her surroundings, soak in the atmosphere. She grabbed her room key and handbag and left the room, worming her way through the maze that was the hallways leading back to the elevators. She got there in the end, after a subtle nod from a kind-looking cleaning lady who pointed her in the right direction.

As she stepped back out into the ground floor, her first observation was that the red head from reception was gone now; replaced shifts, perhaps, with who was now a tall and attractive dark-haired man. She tutted to herself, mentally cursing over the fact she'd have been welcomed by _him_ instead if she'd have just arrived a couple of hours later.

She snapped out of her unintentional trance and continued walking through into the lobby. She poked her head around the corner to observe the breakfast room; not too shabby. It was definitely set to be a lot more sophisticated than her usual, hectic breakfast; hands battling across the wobbly table over who would get the last piece of toast, or one of the boys snatching the others' toy that occasionally came in their favourite cereal.

Of course, she couldn't not check out the bar. It was only small, and the decor was relatively simplistic but nevertheless it seemed like a nice place to wind down after a long day. Her original plan was to check out the area outside the hotel for a little while, but she did a double take as she went to turn around. There he was, again. Sat in the corner with a drink, mumbling something to the bartender. Completely minding his own business, though, so she could hardly bring up the stalker argument again. She sighed, glancing briefly over her shoulder then back over to the corner of the room.

 _Screw it._

She pulled her handbag over her shoulder, making her way over to the bar and taking up the space next to Alex; all without a word being said.

He didn't have to turn his head to know that it was her. The sound of her heels clicking on the marble floor, the fact that she sat right next to him despite the free range of the entire bar on offer, the stubborn silence.

"Enjoying keeping your distance?" He asked smugly, taking a sip of his drink.

"Me? Oh, i'm having a blast." She nodded, resting her elbows on the bar and smiling at the bartender. "One apple martini, please."

"Of course, mon chérie."

A surprised smile tugged at the corner of her lips at the man's strong French accent. "Ah, français!"

"Parlez-vous français?" The man questioned excitably.

"Eh, comme ci...comme ça." She admitted with a flipping gesture of her hand. "It's a little off these days."

She spotted Alex in the corner of her eye, looking at her with raised eyebrows. With a small smirk, she turned to him and shrugged her left shoulder in a 'Yeah, I can speak French' kind of way.

"So how long have you lived here...uh...oh—Fred?" She asked, drawing her attention back to the bartender and the name tag attached to his waistcoat, taking a hold of the martini he slid in front of her.

"Ooo, well, I left Bordeaux a little over 5 years ago now. I travelled a lot even before then, but I think...yes...I think around then is when I officially moved here. And i've worked here 3/4 years now."

"Oh, wow." She nodded, taking a sip of her drink.

"Well...yes. It's not the worst life...I must say. And you? Where have you come here from?"

"Arizona. Yeah, not as impressive unfortunately..."

"Ahhh." He smiled, nodding his head slowly, his eyes flickering briefly towards Alex then back to her. "So _you're_ the woman, huh?"

"'The woman'?" When she turned to Alex in hope of an explanation, he seemed about ready to sink into the ground. Of course he wasn't going to admit to talking about her; oh, god forbid he was caught praising her. She rolled her eyes, turning once more back to the bartender.

"Yes, well, your friend was telling me about the two of you reuniting here...why how rom—"

"Friend, reuniting?" She scoffed, taking a sip of her martini. "Please, we barely _met_ a couple hours back."

"Perhaps, but nonetheless you two have been pushed right back together. Like two little doves! Voilà!" He exclaimed contently, like as if he was truly overjoyed over the concept despite barely knowing the two of them. "I believe that's a little thing we French call _destineé_."

"Or, maybe it's a little thing we Americans call...a coincidence." Norma responded, mimicking his theatrical tone which triggered a quiet laugh from the French man.

"Woah there, hang on, what was that?" Alex intervened suddenly, cupping his hand over his ear, leaning closer to her. "Sorry, say that one again? I didn't quite catch it. Coincid—"

"Alright alright." She rolled her eyes, swatting his hand away irritably. "So you're not a stalker, okay, whatever. I overreacted a little...so what? We all do sometimes."

"Mm. Whatever you say." He narrowed his eyes, sipping his drink.

There went that silence again; the gap that would usually be filled with much friendlier, enthusiastic chatter by people a lot less stubborn than them.

"So." Norma began, crossing one leg over the other. " _Becky_." She stated simply, her eyes brightening with a glint of curiosity.

He frowned. "The receptionist? What about her."

" _The receptionist_." She rolled her eyes, resting her chin on her hand. "Come on, don't insult me here. I'm not stupid."

"I never said you were." He responded before sipping his drink, pretending he hadn't already pieced together where she was going with this.

"You two have screwed before, huh?" She asked bluntly, pulling the apple slice off the corner of her glass and biting it.

He near enough choked on his scotch, slamming the glass down on the top of the bar. " _Jesus_..."

A quiet yet still audible chuckle came from the French man behind the bar, obviously overhearing the conversation from afar where he was cleaning a couple of glasses.

"That's a yes. Knew it!" She snapped her fingers, chewing on the rest of the apple. "So...what, she's like your little summer fling every year? Is that it, is that why you come here all the time?"

"It's not—" He sighed, scratching the back of his neck. Clearly, the topic made him uncomfortable, but that wasn't about to stop Norma's questioning. "It's not like that. I suppose...well I suppose it is, but it's just...it's not."

"Oh, yeah." She responded sarcastically, nodding her head. "Makes sense."

"No, I just mean that...well it's never... _intentional_."

She choked out a loud laugh, only to be met with a completely serious expression by Alex. "Never intentional? So you just...find yourself in her bed? Through what, teleportation?"

"Never _planned_ , I mean."

"Hm. I don't buy that."

"It's true."

" _Please_. I bet you anything you'll end up hooking up with her by the end of this week."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. $10. And let's make this an honest bet, 'kay? You sleep with her, you come find me and pay up."

"And if I don't, you'll do the same?"

"Deal's a deal." She shrugged, sticking her hand out.

He shook her hand firmly; feeling a deja-vu from when they'd done the exact same a mere couple of hours ago, during what they thought was their goodbye.

"A toast?" Norma suggested, lifting her glass.

"What to?"

"Uh..." She pondered, with a tilt of her head. An amused grin spread across her face as she ironically repeated the words of the French man, "Destineé?"

" _Coincidences_." He corrected, lifting his glass and clinking it against hers before they both chugged back the little remaining contents.

With that, she got up and left without a single word. And as Alex watched her walk away, heels clicking, hips swaying, he shook his head—because he knew, now—he knew that this woman was about to become the bane of his existence. Irritating, rude, brutally honest, dramatic...

Yet—strangely amusing, entertaining company—and god, _extremely attractive_.

 **(Firstly - just for a bit of context, It's 5am right now and i'm currently questioning why and how i'm still here...)**

 **I know, the wait between my updates is atrocious. Please feel free to shoot me. I am going to try my best to get back into that 'chapter a week' routine. Other fic writers update so regularly and it astonishes me, I swear. Like...you go guys. I will become one of those cool people. I will. [nervous laughter]**

 **P.S: Yes, Rebecca is The Rebecca™ and she is going to be a royal pain in the ass in this fic, and i'm very sorry, but ya gotta do what ya gotta do right? But I mean, at least there's Fred. Appreciate Fred, you guys, because he's my fave. He also may or may not be loosely inspired by the guy from the British TV show First Dates, if any of you even know what that is. Haha! Gotta love that guy. But anyway, as always, hope you enjoyed the chapter! Feedback is always appreciated.**


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